Not so long ago, your main environmentally friendly option on vacation involved leaving hotel towels on the bathroom rack so they would be reused instead...

It has often said that the true enjoyment of a trip lies in meeting the locals. These encounters - often far too brief - allow us to absorb a foreign culture in its purest form, unyoked from the rituals of mass tourism.

Nowhere is this more true than in the northern provinces of Argentina, where mules and scooters share broken roads, where substance living is the accepted norm and where locals will open their hearts and homes.

Argentina's northern provinces are a unique amalgam of cultural infusion.

With Chile to the west, Bolivia to the north, and Paraguay to the east, the region is rich in history, geography and personality. Last March, I experienced Argentina's allure while perched from the seat of a well ridden, but reliable, mountain bike.

Cycling with 11 others from Canada and the U.S., initially strangers to one another, we joined together in an effort to raise funds for the Calgary-based charity Two Wheel View. Rick McFerrin, the founder of Two Wheel View, promised us a trip we wouldn't forget. He was right.

Whether travelling by bike, or navigating the winding roads of the region by car, the spellbinding effects of northern Argentina are the same.

In just a few hundred kilometres the landscape and weather of the region morphs dramatically.

We began our trip in Salta, a mid-size city dotted with magnificent churches, as is common in most of South America.

Here, on our first night, we were treated to staples of the traditional Argentine diet, including locro - a hearty beef and corn broth with a smattering of chopped-up tripe and intestine. Putting preconceived notions about how something "might taste" behind us, we soon grew to appreciate the local fare, jokingly predicated on the simple question, "where's the beef ?"

The biggest challenge of our first few days was learning how best to avoid the dogs, who are everywhere.

Habitually friendly, the stray canines of Argentina serve as a kind of frontline "welcome wagon" for the even warmer reception you'll receive from polite restaurant owners, eager merchants and uniformed schoolchildren.

For the first few days of the trip we ride south from Salta through a series of valleys and straightaways.

Taking refuge from the midday heat we watch as young and old alike celebrate the annual Vendemina wine festival in small town squares.

Days are marked by long stretches of peddling on uneven pavement, frequent stops to photograph what seemed to be an era long passed, and waving to the constant throng of supportive car-honking passersby. Evenings are marked by roadside camping, laughter and sleep of the dead.

The locals we stay with along the way have a relationship with McFerrin that he forged on previous trips to the region. But they treat us all as family, immediately inviting us into their homes and their lives.

One day we meet Maximilliano and his adorable family. Part farmer, part construction worker, and part-time vineyard owner, Maximilliano stands proud and tall.

Sporting a long ponytail, his pants tucked into calf-hugging knee-high leather boots, and a 12-inch knife tucked into his traditional Argentine white belt, he looks every bit the Malborough Man of Latin America.

The days spent here, enjoying Malbec and eating lamb, served as the perfect preclude to a stay in the world capital of Buenos Aires.

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